


Brambles

by gwennolmarie



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Age Difference, Biting, Come Eating, Come Marking, Creampie kink, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Fighting Dirty, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Genderqueer, Grinding, Idiots in Love, Loss of Virginity, Marking, Other, Penis In Vagina Sex, Sparring, Tender Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, WHEW BUDDY, bare chest sex, mentions of - Freeform, non binary john marston
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-04 20:37:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18820264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwennolmarie/pseuds/gwennolmarie
Summary: “Hey…” Arthur says haltingly, nervously.“Please, Arthur?” John whispers and flexes his hand to graze the back of his fingernail over Arthur’s hand.Arthur glances to the touch sharply and then back to John’s face, looking cornered.John finally gets his legs free and hooks one calf around the back of Arthur’s thigh.“John,” Arthur says, a quiet warning.“Please?” John begs earnestly and presses his hips up against the older man’s.“John,” Arthur repeats, voice lower and sterner but John’s not prepared to give up until Arthur fucking lets him go.





	Brambles

**Author's Note:**

> John's bits are referred to with clit and cunt, no mention of dysphoria

“Arthur, can you please just help me?” John asks miserably as he tries to untangle the brambles from his hair, Arthur snickering a couple of feet away.

The older man gets Bo’ and Old Boy hitched to a couple of trees then moves over to the younger.

John glares up through matted strands of hair and thorny vines.

“Hey,” Arthur raises his hands innocently, “I tried to warn you Ol’ Boy was too tall.”

John huffs then tugs helplessly at the mess.

He’s practically cross-eyed looking at the hair until Arthur brandishes a knife and John looks up frantically.

“You are not cuttin’ my hair,” John says urgently.

“Wasn’t plannin’ to,” Arthur says and then shoos John’s hands away so he can take over.

John bitches the entire time, at each little tug and twist.

Arthur almost has the plant-matter free when John hisses at the pulling and hits Arthur’s chest half-heartedly.

“You’re doin’ that shit on purpose,” John grumbles.

“No, I wasn’t,” Arthur counters with a roll of his eyes.

But then he does do it on purpose, tugging sharply on a section of John’s long hair.

“Hey!” John looks up sharply, shoving Arthur reflexively.

Which pulls on his hair again.

“Arthur!”

“Hey,” Arthur re-sheaths the knife and scoffs, “That one was on you.”

“God,” John hisses and reaches up to shove Arthur’s hand away.

Arthur grabs John’s wrist before it can make contact and squeezes warningly.

“Cut it out, John,” Arthur says lowly.

John’s nose scrunches up in petulant annoyance, he can feel the sting of tears in the corners of his eyes, embarrassed and frustrated.

He reaches up with his other hand and tries to shove at Arthur again.

Arthur catches that hand and moves it so he can hold both of John’s wrists above the younger’s head with one hand.

The older man uses his free hand to sharply yank out the last bit of bramble.

Along with a couple of hairs.

John makes a sharp noise of pain then flexes his forearms, pulling his body away and trying to break Arthur’s hold.

“Jesus, calm down,” Arthur grunts and repositions one of John’s wrists in each of his hands.

John can feel his chest aching, angry at himself and that useless anger bleeding over to be directed at Arthur.

“Let me go,” John whispers.

“What’re you gonna do?” Arthur asks, eyeing the younger warily.

“Let-” John huffs and yanks sharply on his arms.

“You’re gonna go rabid on me if I do, I know you too well, Marston.”

John absolutely doesn’t help convince Arthur otherwise when he growls and wriggles, half bent-over.

Arthur’s expecting John to continue trying to take steps back.

John takes three, long, fast steps towards Arthur and then yanks down, dropping to his knees and using all the aid of gravity he can.

It works, kinda.

Arthur falls on his back, as John had expected, but the younger’s wrists stay firmly captured.

John lands sitting on one of Arthur’s thighs, his own legs trapped under the older man’s other leg.

Arthur looks surprised and then fed-up, staring at the cloudy sky in irritation.

He switches John’s wrists to one hand again to rub at the back of his head, partly because it aches with the fall and partly because he knows it’ll piss John off.

It might not be wise to anger John further but he’s really tired of this shit.

John takes the opportunity to squirm and throw his body weight around trying to break free.

This is expected, because they’ve done this shit a hundred times.

John tends to ignore the flight half of ‘fight or flight’.

He’d sooner try to shoot a bear than run away.

“Fuck off, Arthur,” John hisses and curls up trying to roll off to the side.

Arthur follows him easily enough and when John pauses with his back flush to the grass Arthur takes the moment to shove his knees into each of John’s inner thighs and pin the younger’s legs open.

He moves John’s hands and presses them into the younger’s stomach lightly.

“Give up, John.”

John tries to move his legs and narrows his eyes at the older man when he realizes he’s trapped until Arthur decides to let him go.

He twists his hand around until he can dig his nails into Arthur’s palm.

The older man hisses and shoves John’s hands away only to recapture them as he leans over John.

Arthur uses his body weight to press John’s wrists into the grass on either side of the younger’s head.

“Cut it out or I swear to God.”

“Swear you’ll what?” John spits then glances down their bodies and looks back up at Arthur’s face, considering.

Desperate.

John lifts his hips up, trying to make contact with Arthur.

The older man frowns and studies John’s face in confusion.

“Come on, Arthur,” John says softly, “Let me go.”

Arthur’s face pinches in suspicion as he stares down at the younger.

“Arthur,” John whispers and lets his head loll to the side, looking up at the older man in what he hopes is a good imitation of how Abigail gets what she wants.

John arches up his hips again, trying to get the older man’s knees to slip off.

“Hey…” Arthur says haltingly, nervously.

“Please, Arthur?” John whispers and flexes his hand to graze the back of his fingernail over Arthur’s hand.

Arthur glances to the touch sharply and then back to John’s face, looking cornered.

John finally gets his legs free and hooks one calf around the back of Arthur’s thigh.

“John,” Arthur says, a quiet warning.

“Please?” John begs earnestly and presses his hips up against the older man’s.

“John,” Arthur repeats, voice lower and sterner but John’s not prepared to give up until Arthur fucking lets him go.

“Arthur?” John asks airily, he’s not sure if Arthur swings in whatever direction would be needed to be attracted to John but John knows he’s got enough femininity to play up right now and maybe use to his advantage.

Arthur’s brows are heavy and furrowed as he stares down at the younger.

John feels a creeping of something sour in his throat but brushes it away to arch his back and graze his crotch against Arthur’s hips.

He can feel the bulge of the older man’s cock but he’s not sure if that’s how big it normally is or if this tactic is working too well.

“Please?” John repeats but his voice is thready.

“You need to learn to pick your fights,” Arthur grumbles and looks away from John’s face to the younger’s wrist under his palm.

“What?” John asks distractedly, drawing his other leg up to frame the older man’s hips with his thighs.

Arthur breathes in slowly then lowers his head with his exhale, his hair flopping down and grazing John’s shirt.

“Where the hell’d you learn that?” Arthur asks, still not lifting his head.

John swallows and shifts awkwardly, his anger have abandoned him in the effort to just get free.

“Watchin’ Abigail,” John admits softly, his leg is still hooked around the back of Arthur’s, their hips are close but not quite touching.

John hadn’t realized how warm he feels.

Arthur huffs quietly but doesn’t move.

John swallows hard again and waits, not sure where he led them or what to do with where they are.

“I… Arthur?” John says hesitantly.

Arthur lifts his head to look at John through his hair.

John’s a bit wide-eyed when their gazes meet then the younger presses his lips together and looks away.

John wonders if his face is as red as it feels.

“Don’t go ‘round tryin’ to get outta trouble like this,” Arthur grumbles.

“Wasn’t plannin’ to.”

“Ah,” Arthur huffs, “So I’m special.”

“What, like it’d work on Bill?”

Arthur’s head lifts sharply at that and he looks over John’s face in genuine concern.

“Arthur, I’m jokin’.”

“You better be.”

John frowns up at him and shifts his hips.

Arthur stiffens above him, looking away.

“Is… Are you…?” John edges around the question.

There’s a hot tugging in his gut and a sharp tugging in his mind telling him to press his hips up harder.

So he does.

Arthur’s hands squeeze sharply around his wrists and John can feel the older man’s length pressing firmly against his core.

“You are…” John whispers uncertainly.

Arthur’s fingers flex against his wrists but the older man doesn’t reply.

He can’t pull back without giving up and giving John what the younger wants.

John feels a shudder crawl down his spine then he lifts his other leg and curls it around the back of Arthur’s other thigh.

He can feel his heart hammering against his sternum as he watches Arthur’s gaze flick around, still not meeting his eyes, still trying to process.

“This still a game?” Arthur asks lowly, closing his eyes.

“Ain’t everything?” John asks in reply, barely above a whisper.

Arthur huffs quietly then his nose scrunches up in uncertainty and he rolls his hips down against John’s.

The younger’s chest hitches with a gasp and he watches the older with wide eyes.

Arthur draws his lower lip in and bites down on it as he rocks down again and John’s thighs squeeze against his sides.

“Arthur,” John whispers.

The older man tenses and stills.

John twists slightly then rolls his hips up.

“Kinda,” John huffs and lets his head fall back, “Almost wish I still wore dresses.”

John can hear the clicking of Arthur’s throat as the older man swallows.

“Why?” Arthur whispers.

“‘Cause you could… You could...” John’s toes curl in his boots nervously.

John closes his eyes tightly and rocks his hips up instead of answering, hoping Arthur will drop it.

The older man’s hands shifts around his wrists then both of John’s wrists are pulled right above his head and pinned to the ground by one of Arthur’s hands.

John slowly opens his eyes to see Arthur studying him.

“Why?” The older man repeats.

John shifts, wishes he could grip something to worry in his anxiety.

“The first time I thought of being fucked it was by you,” John says hastily.

Arthur’s brows draw up in surprise and then together in doubt.

“Honest,” John rasps, “You’re the only one I’d… When I…”

John cuts himself off by pressing his lips together and closes his eyes again.

Arthur’s now-free hand settles on the younger’s stomach palm flat above John’s belly button.

John keeps his eyes closed, breathing a little deeper.

The loops around the buttons of his suspenders are slipped free.

His trousers unlaced.

John squeezes Arthur’s hips between his thighs, god if Arthur touches him now and feels how wet he is.

Just for Arthur.

Only for Arthur.

“John?”

John makes a stifled, inquisitive noise.

“Don’t move your hands,” Arthur says with the same firm voice he normally reserves for directions spoken during a job.

So John doesn’t move when his wrists are freed.

His legs are unwrapped and his boots tugged off and he still doesn’t open his eyes.

Arthur’s fingers curl in the sides of his waistband and start tugging down.

The older man slips his pants down and off, followed by his drawers.

John feels his legs guided back into place around Arthur’s hips.

The younger slowly opens his eyes and looks up at Arthur who’s watching his own fingers lightly trail up John’s thighs.

There’s a reverence to it that warms and tightens John’s chest.

“You thought ‘bout this before?” John asks quietly.

Arthur’s fingers still and the older man meets his eyes.

“That okay?”

John twists his fingers together but doesn’t move his hands from their place above his head.

“You can touch me,” John says.

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

“You can tell me to stop,” Arthur says seriously, leaning a little closer to John’s face, “You know that?”

“‘Course,” John whispers, hesitates, and then opens his legs a little wider, his heels pressing into the backs of Arthur’s thighs.

Arthur exhales shakily and pulls back to watch all of John as he moves his hand to the crook of the younger’s hip.

His thumb rubs over the corded muscle in John’s thigh and watches the younger’s legs tense and shift.

He can see John’s cunt in full, slick shining on the lips.

“You touch yourself?” Arthur asks continuing to move his thumb in slow, firm circles.

“Shit,” John shifts his hips and closes his eyes, “Yeah.”

“How?”

“I…” John twists his fingers together, “The usual way?”

Arthur snorts and moves his hand over and presses his thumb to John’s clit.

John starts to make a sound then covers his mouth with his hand to muffle it.

Arthur gently moves the younger’s hand back above his head and presses on it lightly.

“Why d’you wish you still wore skirts, John?” Arthur asks teasingly as he moves his thumb slowly back and forth.

The younger squirms, pressing his hips into the touch.

“John?”

“...Had a thought about sittin’ in your lap.”

Arthur stills his fingers and raises a brow looking over the younger.

“Sittin’ in my lap?”

“Skirts… split-drawers,” John says haltingly.

“Oh,” Arthur murmurs and moves two fingers to the bottom edge of John's entrance, playing in the pooling slick.

“Yeah…” John swallows and tries to fight the urge to squeeze his legs shut.

“So you want what? My fingers up in you? That ease of access?”

“No, Morgan, I want you to take me while everyone around's none the wiser.”

“Jesus, John,” Arthur hisses and slips his first finger into the younger.

The heat and wetness he feels has a throaty noise rumbling from him.

“You said you thought ‘bout me?” John asks, a little giddy at the idea.

“Yeah,” Arthur murmurs and finds no resistance when slides his middle finger in alongside the first.

“How?”

“The ‘usual way’,” Arthur jokes but John can tell he's deflecting.

The younger clenches down on the fingers inside of him and Arthur makes a soft noise.

“Tell me, please?” John asks and honestly it's a rarity to hear the word from the younger's mouth, to hear it so many times this afternoon alone…

“What do you want to know?”

“How often?”

“Started… I dunno a year and a bit ago, since then?” Arthur curls his fingers and John bites down a gasp, “Once a week, f'not more.”

“You think about fucking me?”

“Nah, didn't know if you'd…”

John clenches down again.

“I do,” John admits, “Stupid with it, sometimes, thinkin’ ‘bout you… Takin’ me and not pullin’ out.”

“Really?” Arthur asks, a bit startled.

“Tellin’ me to keep my legs spread while it drips out, makin’ me play with myself after, ‘til I'm covered.”

“Holy shit,” Arthur breathes out shakily.

John rolls his hips against the older man's hand and feels high with this power.

“You wanna know the first time I thought ‘bout you, not just random faces but just you?”

“Yeah.”

“You know those fancy long tables with the big, tall chairs?”

“Sure.”

“Thought about coming into a room with that and you in the king's chair. You got me to sit on the edge of the table and got me soakin’ then shoved me under the cloth and made me suck you off while you and some people ate dinner.”

John feels that Arthur's fingers have paused as he looks up at the older man.

“Wasn't allowed to touch myself and wasn't wearing anything, so it was either have it run down my thighs or make a puddle on the nice floor. Kept you up ‘til everyone was gone and you bent me over the table.”

Arthur's staring at him.

“Thought a lot about your dick in my mouth after that, then more about your dick in me as it went on,” John says, calmer than he feels.

Arthur sits back on his heels, keeping his fingers in John.

“That weird you out?” John asks slowly.

Arthur studies him for a few moments then leans in and presses his mouth softly to John's.

John hums in pleasant surprise and arches his back up to press his chest against Arthur's.

“Can I move my hands?” John asks between slow, savoring kisses.

“Yeah, go ‘head.”

John immediately moves to cup Arthur's face and pulls the older man closer.

He lifts his hips up shamelessly, hearing his own wetness as Arthur's fingers play in him.

John reaches the hand not on Arthur's face down to rub himself.

“More,” John murmurs into the kiss.

“What?”

“Your fingers, use more,” John says as he circles his clit.

A third finger is pressed into him, twisting and spreading and pumping and John whines quietly, rubbing faster.

“You gonna come?” Arthur rasps against his cheek.

“Shit,” is all John can whimper as he squeezes down on the fingers moving inside him.

“C'mon, Johnny,” Arthur teases, “You gonna come this fast?”

John twitches and his hips jerk, knees digging into Arthur's sides he barely keeps from clamping his legs shut around Arthur's hand.

“Arthur,” John hisses before he shudders through his orgasm, hand going to squeeze Arthur's wrist when he gets too sensitive.

“Shit,” John mutters and circles his hips lightly feeling his slick overflowing and dribbling past Arthur’s fingers.

The older man’s fingers slide up through the mess, barely catching John’s clit before the younger gasps and jerks back.

“Damn,” Arthur murmurs, “Can I put my mouth on you?”

John looks up sharply.

“You… You wanna eat me out?” John whispers.

“Yeah,” Arthur says softly, leaning forward and grazing their lips, “If you’ll let me.”

“I… Uh,” John squirms, “Okay.”

Arthur pulls back to study the younger.

“You good?”

“I uh…” John barely gets out.

“We don’t have to,” Arthur reassures.

“Just not something I’ve thought about,” John admits.

“Really?”

“Would rather...” John’s lips press together and he runs his hand up Arthur’s forearm, carding his nails through the dark hairs.

“Rather what?” Arthur whispers.

“Have you inside me,” John admits quietly.

Arthur looks into his eyes intensely, searching and searing John with the heat.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” John squeezes the older man’s arm, “More sure than I am about anything else.”

“A high honor,” Arthur jokes.

“I mean it,” John insists, shifting his hand to the closure of his shirt, “You’re it, Art. You’re the only one I’d want this with.”

“You wanna take that off?” Arthur asks hoarsely.

John swallows and glances towards the trail they rode in on then back to Arthur.

“Only with you,” John says, trying to sound resolute.

“Anyone comes down that path,” Arthur makes an exaggerated wet noise and mimes slitting his own throat.

It works, in the sense that it gets John to snort a small laugh and squeeze Arthur’s hips with his knees.

“Help me,” John demands in a voice just above a whisper.

They get his shirt and undershirt off, tossed away with his other garments.

Then John starts on Arthur’s shirt-buttons, slipping each carefully free with his thumbs.

Arthur gets his own trousers and drawers undone and ready to be shoved down.

John feels the nervousness like a heaviness in his throat, like his tongue is suddenly the weight of an anvil.

He shoves at the shoulders until Arthur gets the message and shucks the shirt.

He barely has the cuffs free when John untangles his legs and lays flat on the grass, absolutely bare besides every scar and scratch on his skin.

“All of it,” John whispers, watching intently.

Arthur rubs the back of his own neck to fight off his nerves then sits back and manages to shuck the rest of his clothes and his boots.

As soon as he’s back kneeling before the younger, John’s legs are wrapping around him.

It’s a vastly different feeling, even before they’re touching again.

They’ve been naked together dozens of times but never with these emotions in the air.

Arthur’s muscles feel good against his inner thighs.

“You sure?” Arthur repeats quietly and John…

John thought for sure that after this long of knowing what Arthur looks like nude but not in this context that he’d be distracted but he isn’t.

It’s Arthur.

In a new way, with new realities but it’s still Arthur.

The person he knows and is known by, the only man he trusts with his life, heart, and soul.

“I am,” John says thickly then reaches for one of Arthur’s hands, tangling their fingers tightly.

Their fingers fit together and then so do their bodies, Arthur carefully leaning over the younger and pressing the tip of his cock to John’s cunt.

The younger squirms restlessly as Arthur rubs the head of his dick along John’s slit.

“God,” Arthur grunts, “You’re soaked.”

“Hah,” John huffs and rocks his hips up pleadingly, “C’mon, Art.”

“John, this…” Arthur starts, hushed, “You know you mean a lot to me?”

John sucks on his teeth and nods slowly.

“And you know… That this ain’t casual for me?”

“Ain’t for me,” John whispers, “I wouldn’t… I don't expect anything from you after this.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Arthur shakes his head and leans in to kiss the younger lightly.

Soft and soul-filled, every ounce of his being warm and gooey, trusting and hopeful.

He slides in.

John whimpers into their kiss and squeezes Arthur’s hand, his other hand moving to grip the side of the older man’s neck.

They find an easy rhythm, John having to pull back every other minute to catch his breath and moan quietly.

Arthur tucks his face into the crook of the younger’s neck and kisses lightly at the skin there.

“Mark me,” John mumbles.

“Hm?” Arthur says and squeezes the younger’s thigh as he buries himself deep, bottoming out.

John struggles to breathe for a few seconds, a whimper trapped in his throat.

“Fuck, Art, bite me, bruise me, something,” John begs.

Arthur groans lowly at the pleading then sinks his teeth into John’s neck, groaning louder when the younger clenches around his length like a vice.

“Shit,” John hisses and rocks his hips against Arthur’s still ones, small noises catching in his throat at the feeling of the older man’s cock stretching him so perfectly.

“Please, God, Arthur,” John whispers, “Fill me up, please?”

“Shit,” Arthur murmurs and pulls back to kiss John’s cheek tenderly, “You know we can’t.”

John groans in disappointment and rocks his hips up harder, helplessly clenching.

“Then come on me,” John demands, “Claim me.”

“John,” Arthur groans and starts thrusting again, gently lifting John’s hips to get a better angle.

John pants desperately, turning his head to nuzzle against Arthur, pressing his forehead against the older man’s jaw.

“Come on, come on, come on,” John begs and Arthur moves the hand from the younger’s hip to his clit, rubbing in quick, precise circles.

John gasps and chokes, babbling the older man’s name until it’s hardly more than a whisper as Arthur slides in and out of him, his slick squelching and dripping out of him.

Arthur sends John over the edge with a sharp thrust and a hard press of the younger’s clit, continuing to rub and rock into John until the younger is begging him to let up.

Arthur squeezes John’s hand and brings it up to his mouth, lavishing kisses over each knuckle as his other hand slides up John’s side to cup his ribs and his hips jerk, his rhythm faltering until he’s so close to coming he feels his heartbeat pounding in his head.

He bites John’s fingers and pulls out, resting his cock on John’s lower stomach as he makes a mess of his darling.

He pants against John’s hand and growls as the younger reaches down to milk him for every last drop.

Arthur’s cock jerks as John lets go to run his fingers through the pool and looks up at the older man curiously and dips the fingers into his mouth, tasting Arthur’s spend lazily.

Arthur groans and lowers himself to press against John from hips to chests, pressing his lips firmly to the younger’s cheek, whispering.

“You’re so good, John, so good for me.”

**Author's Note:**

> boy howdy *sweats* 
> 
> tumblr and twitter @gwennolmarie


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